


i was housed by your warmth

by troubadore



Series: geralt fluff week 2020 [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Witcher Geralt, past Geralt/Renfri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/pseuds/troubadore
Summary: They hadn't really ever talked about it—having a child. Nothing beyondI'm not ready now, but maybe somedayand leaving it at that. Children—families and being one—were a subject they gave a wide berth. She'd run from hers and he'd never had one to begin with, and walking the Path meant there weren't many opportunities to settle down. None, in fact.But the world had changed in the long centuries he'd lived,he'dchanged, and suddenly—Suddenly, hewanteda family. Always had, he thought, but this, right here—his hands laid gentle and reverent on her belly that would swell with a child,theirchild—he wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything before.orA chance at a family, taken away, and given back again
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: geralt fluff week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860493
Comments: 2
Kudos: 141
Collections: Geralt Fluff Week 2020





	i was housed by your warmth

**Author's Note:**

> day 3 of [geralt fluff week](http://geraltfluffweek.tumblr.com)! prompt: family 
> 
> this is a part of a larger modern witcher geralt au and i've been dying to write the geralt/renfri background for it so i jumped at this chance to start dipping my toes into getting it out in the world! i'm really soft for the idea of geralt and renfri being a family ok 
> 
> **warnings:** character death and brief description of a fatal wound

It had come as a surprise. 

She'd been wearing nothing but his shirt, hair an unkempt mess from the night before, and he could still see the bruises he'd bit into her thighs while his fingers worked into her, drawing out moans and mewls and choked-off gasps. It was his favorite look on her, wild and sexy and  _ his.  _

Her smile was teasing as she climbed into his lap, taking his mug of coffee and setting it aside, and he thinks he'd had a disgustingly besotted look on his face as her expression softened and she brought his hands up to rest on her belly. 

"I'm pregnant," she murmured, nervous like she never was, and he felt himself still. He looked up into her hazel eyes, watching him carefully, but warm all the same. 

They hadn't really ever talked about it—having a child. Nothing beyond  _ I'm not ready now, but maybe someday  _ and leaving it at that. Children—families and being one—were a subject they gave a wide berth. She'd run from hers and he'd never had one to begin with, and walking the Path meant there weren't many opportunities to settle down. None, in fact. 

But the world had changed in the long centuries he'd lived,  _ he'd  _ changed, and suddenly— 

Suddenly, he  _ wanted  _ a family. Always had, he thought, but this, right here—his hands laid gentle and reverent on her belly that would swell with a child,  _ their  _ child—he wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything before. 

He realized he was holding his breath and exhaled slowly. He leaned his head forward against her breast, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Her hands found their way into his hair. 

"A family?" he asked, rough with the emotions curling in him, and she tilted his head up to press a kiss to his forehead. 

"A family," she confirmed. "If you want it." 

And  _ oh,  _ did he. 

It was going to be a little girl, and they were going to call her Marilka. 

They turned the spare room in the apartment into a nursery. He'd picked up a job—a  _ normal  _ job, one that didn't take him across the country hunting monsters that the world refused to believe existed anymore—and they settled into something like domesticity. Something like happiness. 

Maybe, he thought, he deserved a little bit of happiness after a lifetime of heartache and guilt. Maybe they both did. 

The truck didn't see them, and they never saw it. 

He hated that all he had were a few scratches, already healing over, while he held her in his arms as she bled out from her carotid, a piece of windshield glass lodged in her throat. 

Maybe, he thought bitterly, when not consumed by his grief, nothing had changed at all. 

But it does, slowly; the passing of years heals the scar on his soul where she was ripped from him, soothed by the balm of blue eyes and a bright, warm smile, and a little girl with white-blonde hair and a fierceness that keeps him strong. 

It still hurts when he thinks of Renfri, when he thinks of little Marilka who'd never gotten the chance to see the world. It aches deep behind his ribs, and every once in a while, the nightmare of it will jolt him out of sleep, breath heavy, covered in sweat, and crying out for her. 

A soft hand smooths up his back, resting between the blades of his shoulders. Geralt relaxes at the touch, leaning into the warm body that presses up against him, and he presses his head to Jaskier's, breathing him in. 

"I'm here," Jaskier murmurs, sleep-rough at the edges. "I'm here, it's okay. You're okay." 

It's calming, and Geralt lets it wash over him, lets that soft voice surround him with comfort as the nightmare fades away. 

The door to their room opens, and Geralt looks over to see Ciri's head poke in, rubbing her eye with a fist. 

"Dad?" 

"What is it, sweet girl?" Jaskier shifts, immediately making room for her and holding out his arms. She comes padding over, pulling flyaway strands of hair from her mouth as she crawls into the bed with them. 

"Bad dream," she says, voice small, clutching her lion plush to her chest, and Jaskier makes more soft, soothing noises as he guides her into the middle of the bed. 

Geralt feels the last of his panic melt away as she's tucked between his body and Jaskier's, and he curls around her protectively, warding away whatever nasty energy might be hanging around. He reaches out his arm over her to lay it against Jaskier, feeling the heat of him, the steady beating of his heart, listening to the deepening of his breaths as he falls back asleep. 

His little family, safe and sound beside him. 

Maybe he deserves happiness after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/troubadorer) and [tumblr](http://geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek.tumblr.com)~!


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